Only Dreaming
by Slasher69
Summary: After the end of the Forbidden Game trilogy... Zach and Julian? That's right! Love, angst, and hot guys getting it on. It's all the best aspects of life crammed into one OMNIBUS OF AWESOME.
1. Insomnia

**Author's notes:** Anyway... after soliciting this site for so long, I thought it was high time to submit a story of my own. So, here it is, my first fan fic. I k_now_ it's short. Forgive me. The first few chapters are mostly exposition, but I'll get to the juicy part eventually. R/R, PLEASE!111!111

**Disclaimer:** It all belongs to L.J. Smith.

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Chapter 1

Zach did not know where to turn. His mind was black with panic. He needed to move! He needed to think! Those magnificent azure eyes were drawing ever closer and he was frozen to the spot. It was those eyes… they seemed to pierce his very soul, reaching inside to rip him apart. A wave such immense sorrow washed over him that he felt his sanity might snap under its force.

With a cry, Zach flew into a sitting position, his bare chest heaved under a slick sheen of sweat. Eyes stinging with tears, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. He had been dreaming again. Dreaming of _him_. That made three nights in a row, but tonight had been the worst. Zach sighed and shook his head as if to clear it. Ever since the events of two years before, the memory of Julian and his amazingly blue eyes had been lingering in the back of his mind. But was that so odd? After all, Julian was a hard person to forget. Recently though…recently those fading memories had gate crashed his dreams. This sudden reemergence of old memories had Zach stressed to the breaking point. It wasn't just his sleep that was suffering. He was beginning to notice some rather unpleasant changes in the quality of his artwork. That was very bad.

The year after The Doll House Incident, as he had come to think of it, Zach had been accepted into a prominent University of the Arts on a full ride scholarship. He had been elated when he had received his letter of acceptance, he thought moving across the country might help him forget. Now in his second year, he was working on his first art show, or had been. Before the dreams. It wasn't just the dreams, though. It was the feelings they aroused that frightened him. He had thought for sure that he had been over it. But those feelings were back. With a vengeance.

Zach had known he was gay from the time he was twelve. That life-changing epiphany had come to him in the as his head was being shoved ruthlessly into a toilet. Eighth-grade retribution for popping wood in the gym shower surrounded by naked adolescent males. Coming to grips with his sexuality had taken a while, but acceptance had come with time. He was perfectly happy with is sexuality under normal circumstances, but crushing on an immortal being of pure evil? That was just too odd. With or without the gender discrepancies. Even so… Thinking about him—Julian—made him feel weak at the knees. It was an impossible dream, he knew that. Julian was in love with someone else, Zach's own cousin. Jenny. Where was she now? Last year she had cracked. Broken up with Tom, said goodbye to her friends, and just…vanished. Occasionally she wrote, but for the most part there was only silence. Zach could understand that.

After the ordeal, they had all just gone on with there lives. It was as if nothing had happened. Even Zach thought he had been over it. There were weeks that went by when he didn't even think of the shadow world, and the horrible beings that dwelt there. But Jenny… It had been different for her. After that final confrontation she had gone into a noticeable decline. The radiant happiness that had always surrounded her had faded and she became like a shell of her former self. Poor Jenny. Now he knew how she had felt. Unfortunately, running away would do him no good; he could not escape his own mind. His own feelings. He knew it was wrong, but still… Julian…

"Oh God," he shook his head fiercely, "Oh God, help me…" And with that, Zach began to pull on his clothes. There would be no more sleep for him tonight.


	2. Dream Palace

Authors Note: Ok, so... I decided to up the rating on this Piece O' Crap. I think it is to the better, seeing as how 99 of my dialogue is some variation of the wonderful , useful word 'fuck'. Sorry to those of you readers that don't care for swearing. HAHAHA. It's funny because no onereads this... I cry...

Disclaimer: S'not mine, none of it.

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Chapter 2

Julian's long lashes fluttered on his ivory cheeks. With his eyes closed, with that sullen, sultry glare hidden away, he looked like an angel—a troubled angel. The satin skin that covered his fine features was now creased with anxiety. It was only when those startlingly blue eyes finally opened, and he took in his surroundings that the creases smoothed. He sighed with relief. He had arrived once again. The Tower. It never failed. Night after night, it was always the Tower. All the same… All the same he was never quite at ease until he saw it before him—until he opened his eyes and beheld it for himself.

Julian was not sure why he should appear in this place night after night, nor did he particularly care to know the reason. After swirling around in a cold void of hatred and evil for two years, it was enough to just be somewhere with solid walls he was ready for a change, whatever it might signify. And there were worse places he could be. Much worse. In truth, he rather liked the tower, with its walls and ceiling of what looked like ice, but he supposed was frosted glass of some sort, and smooth obsidian floor. Black and white. Cold colors. Hard colors. His colors.

Always before he had been alone when he would awake in the tower. Each night he would make his solitary way through the shimmering hallways of the dream, exploring the tangled maze of corridors and rooms. Tonight though, tonight there was something different, something hovering just on the periphery of his sight. There was a presence somewhere close by, but his eyes insisted on that there was nobody there.

Taking a step forward, Julian reached out a hand as if to grasp the unseen presence. He had barely begun the motion when he was frozen by a dreadful sense of familiarity. An icy blast of fear and longing, neither feeling his own, washed over him paralyzing his mind and body, and was gone. Gone. It was as if it had never been there at all. _Which, of course,_ he was quick to remind himself, _it hadn't_. The sudden stillness of the air was enough to assure him of that. _Its all part of the dream…It has to be the dream… _The half of his brain that clung to structure and reason wanted desperately to believe it, but there was that voice deep in the back of his ancient mind that was laughing at him even as he thought it.

He shook himself and turned around. What he saw when he did made his jaw drop. There was somebody there. Really there! A crumpled shape lay sprawled on the gleaming floor. The shape was wearing a faded gray T-shirt and torn blue-jeansand, yes, the shape was _moving_.

"What?" He crept with cat-like grace to where they body lay prone. From his new vantage point he could see what had not been apparent to him before.

The body was definitely a human specimen, a boy in point of fact, and, Julian was surprised to note, it was a boy he knew. The eyes were closed, masking those hypnotic gray irises. But he knew him none-the-less. It was Zach, the slender, angsty antithesis of Julian's former obsession. Looking at the sleeping figure, the pink lips pursed in a light frown, Julian felt something in his stomach flutter. There was something about that face. Something that called to him…

"Well, of course there is, stupid," Julian chastised himself vehemently, "He's Jenny's cousin. That's all…" But that wasn't all. Not by a long shot.

Julian dropped to his knees and peered down into Zach's restlessly sleeping face. A lock of light brown hair fell over one spasmodically twitching eyelid, and Julian, unaware of his own actions, reached down and brushed it aside. He felt a jolt, as if he had been electrocuted when his fingertips brushed the sleeping boy's face. Such a physical reaction was most definitely not what he was expecting. He looked down at the prone form in front of him, not really surprised at what he saw there.

Zach's eyes had sprung open at his touch, and now he was staring wildly up at Julian, a look of intense shock on his face. It was more than shock, though. Unwillingly Julian acknowledged that other look for what it was. Hunger. For how many years had he felt that same relentless gnawing at his own soul?

But before Julian had time to ponder the point further a pale, long-fingered hand shot up and locked around his wrist. Julian looked at the hand for a moment, and then down at its owner. Zach was staring at him intently. Julian saw Zach's lips move, heard some incoherent mumbling, and, before he had even a moment to react, he found himself pulled down to Zach's face. Nothing in life (or in Julian's unusual case, unlife) could have prepared him for what was to come. Their lips connected.

Distantly, Julian heard a soft squeak of surprise. Never would he have imagined such a noise coming from his own throat. He was momentarily disgusted with himself, but, as Zach's prying tongue sought brushed against his bottom lip, he found that he really did not care all that much.


	3. Suckin' Face

Chapter 3

… _and that is why religion and government go together like dog shit and ice cream… _

Zach glanced down at his notes. Had the professor actually said that? Not likely. With a sigh of resignation, he began to erase the last sentence, and scanning the rest of the paper, saw more of the same. Absolute nonsense. God, what were they even talking about?

A history of Medieval Europe… Like so many bad ideas, the decision to take the accursed class had seemed like a wise one at the time; like ice skating drunk, the class had proved better in theory. Zach was baffled at his own naïve stupidity. But to be fair, at the time he had enrolled in the course he had still been sleeping on a daily basis. Good God, when had that last been? These days he was lucky if he got an hour of sleep a week.

Zach knew he couldn't keep up the self-inflicted insomnia forever, but he was determined to give it his all for just as long as he could. He thought a few more days at the most. Sleeplessness was beginning take its toll on his mind. His brain was fried—all logic circuits down—school had morphed into an unholy nightmare. He flinched when people talked to him—shying away as if the rest of the student body had suddenly been afflicted with leprosy.

The worst had been collapsing in the middle of the quad, screaming in terror, just because some poor sap had tugged his sleeve asking for the time. That must have been a sight to see. Zach shuddered at the thought. Who knew what else he was likely to do? And how in the hell was he supposed to make it through another three hour of class?

No, Zach thought, it hadn't been the best week ever, but even on the brink of nervous collapse, he would not let himself succumb to sleep's sweet promise. It was those damned dreams! They besieged his mind the very second he drifted off to sleep. The horrible part of the dreams wasn't the darkness, bad as it was, so much worse were the feelings that rose up inside him at the sight of those eyes. When that icy blue gaze fell upon him his willpower went AWOL; his sense of identity slipped out though the back door and he was lost.

Zach felt his eyelids droop another fraction of an inch. The professor's voice continued, the lecture went on and on and he could feel himself being dragged down… He made a final listless effort to free himself from sleep's icy grip, but it was too late. There was a certain resigned pleasure in giving in. Zach closed his eyes, and…

…then it was the dark. He knew where he was without even opening his eyes. Not that opening his eyes would have told him much of anything. Eyes counted for little in darkness such as this.

He stood, or perhaps floated, in that impenetrable dark and waited. From all around him drifted sounds of suffering and madness. Screams, some seemingly miles away, others coming right next to his ear, moans and wet gibbering noises. He did not, as it turned out, have long to wait. _His_ approach resonated throughout Zach's entire body. Fear, longing, and a deep, unresolved passion, the feelings he that had worked so hard to bury away came barreling up from the depths of his mind. Zach felt the surge of emotions as a physical ache.

Then he felt it—underneath the pain—a small tug, right behind his navel. Suddenly he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt: he was on the brinl of something. Somewhere right in front of him there was another world, another universe. He stretched out an arm, feeling blindly in the darkness… He was so close… just a bit further…

"Whafugginshiiiit?" Zach's startled shriek of surprise and disappointment rang out in half empty lecture hall. The girl who had leaned over to tug on his shirtsleeve pulled back abruptly, a look of shock plastered on her face. Zach simply stared at her, unseeing.

She spoke hesitantly, leery of the wild-eyed, disheveled boy next to her. "C—Class just ended. Umm, are you—"

She never finished the sentence. With a horrible retching noise, Zach leaned over and vomited all over her shoes. The girl cried out in disgust as he launched himself to his feet, wiping his mouth on one arm.

Leaping to his feet, Zach muttered a quick insincere apology, and fled the hall, jumping row after row of seats until he reached the door. His stomach was in coils, his mind screaming with frustration. _Almost there! _God_, I almost made it! I was almost there!_

Then he was sprinting full-out, heedless of the staring people all around him. He had no clear idea of where he was running to, he just knew that he had to keep going. He flew down a long deserted hall, feet thumping rhythmically on the linoleum floor. Skidding around a corner he found himself in a darkened corridor; head down, he charged blindly forward.

It was not until his feet failed to meet the next patch of green vinyl tile that he realized that something had gone dreadfully amiss. Before him stretched a steep concrete staircase. Zach's eyes widened as he took it all in. There was no way he could possibly survive a fall like this. His skull would be shattered upon impact, his neck snapped at the very least.

Closing his eyes, Zach waited for the end. It happened in a fraction of a second. The pain was intense, but brief. Then there was only darkness. Again.

Zach felt a touch, cool as water, and opened his eyes. Above him, bewildered and curious, sat the cause of all Zach's misery and the object of his desires. Julian.

Without hesitation, Zach reached out a hand, grabbing a shocked Julian by the wrist. Running on sheer impulse, Zach yanked the shadowman down to his face, and began to kiss him fiercely.

The hunger that exploded in his chest when his lips locked onto their target, nearly made Zach swoon. His hands buried themselves in Julian's beautiful white hair. He tugged the strands, finer than spider silk, and savored the sensation as they slid, like water, from between his fingers. It wasn't enough—he needed more. Zach slipped an impatient tongue between Julian's pliant lips, the taste, alien, but so sweet, was more real than anything he had ever experienced before in his life. This was no dream.


	4. A Brief Venture Into The Land Of Moronia

Hey-hey-hey to the Merry Folken of my not quite non-existant readership! I am pleased to unveil another bit of mindless drivel.Apparently my four month hiatus has destroyed any writing skill I may once have possessed. It has become quite clear to me that I am unable to write dialogue worth a sack of moldy fish heads. But read on anyway. Please? Pleasey please? And for the love of god leave some comments! Flames, constructive critism, flames, unabashed praise, flames... ANYTHING! lalalalala...la.

DISCLAIMER: It is none of it mine. sob.

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Chapter 4

At first Julian was too stunned to do anything but return the kiss. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of any other person that he fairly clung to the boy. As those hot insistent lips covered his own, he melted. Gods, it felt so good to be touched again, and—oh fuck…

He moaned with pleasure as a hand crept up to his head, forcing him closer still. The sensations were exquisite. Julian was the one who broke the kiss, arching his back and gasping for air. For a dizzy moment he felt himself leaning back down, resuming the kiss instinctively. By some unimaginably well timed miracle, however, some vestige of his broken sanity resurfaced and he pulled back, breaking the sordid embrace.

Julian scrambled from the his aggressor. From his lips there came a brief moan of—longing—disgust. He just sat there for a moment, still in shock. Then his eyes traveled down and he saw the prone figure of Zach, Jenny's _cousin_, lying there, looking up at him with wide stunned eyes. It was simply too much. Julian jumped to his feet.

"Wha—what was that?" he demanded. His voice, usually cold and authoritative, was now soft and shaken; he hated to sound like that. And all that moron could do was stare at him. "What the fuck was that?" Better. At least the quavering had died down.

Zach, his lips still slightly parted, stared up at Julian, his gray eyes slightly unfocused. Then, as Julian glowered on, he seemed to pull himself together. If you could call it that. The corners of Zach's mouth pulled up in a smirk to rival even Julian's best efforts.

"I'll be damned," mused the reclining teen, "this is the first time one of my wet dreams has sworn at me…what _is _this world coming to?"

Then he started to laugh—not, Julian noticed, particularly healthy laughter, either. There was a hysterical note to the mirth that unnerved Julian ever so slightly. Dominating any feelings of unease he might of felt, was the seething rage that Julian felt clouding his mind. Just _what _did the little pissant think he was doing _laughing _at _him_? For fuck's own sake, what did the little ass-wipe think he was doing _kissing _him?

His voice a low hiss, Julian began, "I will give you three seconds to shut up that stupid laughing, before I rip your face off, eat it and then shit it down your throat." He was pleased to note his random threat generator was still in fine working order. The laughter ceased abruptly. Zach had in point of fact ceased moving entirely. Julian doubted very much whether he was even breathing. Good. He continued, his voice gaining that menacing edge that was his birthright. "Smart boy. Now," he leveled his blue gaze directly at Zach, "you will give me a very, very, _very _good reason for what just happened, and maybe, and I stress the _may_be, I will make your death less agonizing." Only silence met his words. Julian thought that he had done rather a good job of laying out the game plan, but Zach remained as mute as before.

Then with no preamble, Zach was on his feet, and to Julian's astonished horror, he was lunging forward, his hands clenched into tight fists.

When the first punch landed, Julian was so stunned that he could not move. The second fist collided with his neck, and finally the pain spurred him to movement. With lightning quick reflexes, Julian caught Zach's hand in his own as it returned to lay another blow to his face. He stared into the other boy's face, and saw there some nameless emotion. Zach's normally pale skin was flushed and his cheek muscles twitched as his teeth clenched spasmodically. It was his eyes that Julian found most arresting, however. His pupils were completely dilated, so that his irises appeared entirely black. And they were vibrating. As Julian reached blindly and caught Zach's other flailing fist, he saw the strange sight of Zach's irises twitching so rapidly that it was almost nauseating.

The boy was wound as taught as a rattlesnake in attack mode, and his voice was snakelike as he spat out his next words. "_Fuck you, you slimy moralizing bastard…_ Don't you threaten _me… D_on't—you—dare." He punctuated each of his words by thrashing so forcefully that Julian nearly lost his grip on his fists.

What on God's green earth was with this kid?

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duh duh duh duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. To be continue-ed... 


	5. Hawt, Hawt, Hawt

Chapter 5

Zach was beyond livid. He was insane with rage. After all that he had been through at Julian's hands, after being plagued by his image for months and months, after losing his cousin (for had Jenny ever really returned from the shadow world?) to him, after all that, to have the creep threaten him? It was really all too much. (Zach did not like to think that the real reason he was so indignant was simple humiliation at being so roughly rejected.)

"You think you frighten me, you lightweight?" Zach was speaking out his ass of course, he was in actuality frightened out of his quite substantial wits. "You don't frighten me… know why?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Because the only thing I fear is a life without sleep, which thanks to you, I have been living for the past _three fucking months_! Jesus! You plague me in my waking thoughts, you follow me into what little sleep I do manage," by now Julian was looking thoroughly confused. Zach didn't care. "You stalk me like a psychopathic ex-girlfriend with a bad case of the clap and a manic desire for revenge," Zach realized that he no longer sounded remotely sane, but he plunged bravely onward, "And then you have the unmitigated gall to _threaten _me? Threaten me in my _own dream_? What an asshole!"

His hands caught in a vise like grip Zach lashed out with the only other weapon he possessed. He spat in Julian's face.

Apparently the shadowman was unaccustomed to such vulgar acts, for he immediately released Zach's hands to wipe the anger-induced phlegm of his cheek.

"Ugh! Oh, that is just revolting." Julian scrubbed angrily at his cheek.

Zach felt a brief moment of guilt for blemishing such beauty, but even being the neurotic aesthete that was, he could not be distracted from the task at hand. Using his newly freed arms, Zach rammed forward, catching the distracted Julian unawares, and toppling him to the floor. Zach sank down with catlike grace—his knees on either side of Julian's slender hips, his hands pinning the prostrate shadowman's arms to the floor.

Breathing heavily, Zach stared down into Julian's unnaturally beautiful face. "You want to know why I kissed you? Jesus Christ, Jules," Zach's words were positively dripping with disdain, "I would have expected more from you… What a pity. I guess you are just a dumb blonde after all."

Julian, Zach could immediately sense, was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of a stream of insults. His ivory cheeks had turned a rather delightful dusky rose color, and his eyes blazed.

"What are you playing at?" he muttered. "This is no dream you idiot, when I kill you, you will be dead. For real. Think twice about what you're doing, and then get—off—of—me!"

Zach found the bucking motion with which Julian accentuated his words positively maddening in its seductiveness.

"Not a dream?" Zach's voice was harsh—bordering on hysterical, "Julian, Julian, Julian, _why_ can't you see?" He leaned forward…so close that he could feel wisps of silken hair brush across his lips, and he whispered into Julian's ear, "This _is_ my dream"

Zach let his tongue flicker out, it skimmed lightly over the outer curve of Julian's ear. Zach took in the exquisite taste of his captive, and could not resist a soft groan of ecstasy. _It's not a dream…_Of course it's a dream…Of course it's—but since when could he smell Julian's otherworldly sweat in his dreams? Since when could he see the minute contractions and dilations of Julian's pupils in his dreams? _Its not a dream…_

No. Of course its it's not.

But even as the realization hit him, Zach realized something else. It didn't matter. It didn't matter in the least.

It did not matter that Julian would rip his throat out the moment he let go of his hands, for what was his life in comparison to this sweet relief?

"_You are dead," _Julian murmured, his breath cool against Zach's hot neck.

Fearing nothing but the end of the embrace, Zach let his hot mouth trail over to find Julian's own moist lips.


	6. Man On Man Action Makes Me Happy

Heir ist es, folken (for that my apologies to the german language), what you've all been waiting for with baited breath. Thaz right! Nummer sechs. Loves and kisses to my adoring fans!

**Dish-Claimer: **There is no God.Oops. I mean, NONE of this belongs to me... No, for it is all the absolute mind property of Madame L.J. Smith.

Chapter 6

_Ye Gods, what a remarkably talented tongue_, was all that Julian could think as he lay pinned beneath Zach's hot weight.

The tongue in question was busy caressing the little tender patch behind his left ear when Julian remembered that he was supposed to be killing the upstart little asshole that was inflicting this unsolicited pleasure upon his head. The barest trace of stubble scratched at Julian's neck and he sucked in a quick breath, biting his lip at the sensation. That was not good. Julian thought it might not such a grand idea to give Zach the impression that he was enjoying himself. He tried to twist away, but it was another futile attempt. Due to the clutched hands pinning his arms to the floor he was severely limited in his escape options.

_This has got to end_, he thought desperately. Unfortunately escape was easier to imagine than to execute, for it seemed that the harder he struggled to free himself, the tighter (and more passionately) Zach embraced him. _Maybe he likes it rough_? Julian considered as Zach's fingernails bit sharply into the pale flesh of Julian's wrist. The idea was not entirely improbable. Julian himself was not one to say no to a little bondage. Come to think of it, Zach would look positively delightful in a pair of rusty handcuffs. _And a gag for that impudent mouth. _Julian wiped the budding smile off his face, and caught himself a second before he let out a moan of desire. This was the wrong time to be having thoughts of such a nature.

After several more seconds of futile struggle, Julian was ready to give up. For God's sake, the boy's lust seemed to have endowed him with the strength of a body builder (among other things, Julian noted wryly), and it was more than he felt himself capable of to resist the embrace for much longer.

_What the fuck_, Julian sighed inwardly, _there's no rush. I can always kill him afterwards. _With that thought in mind, he turned his head to meet Zach's persistent mouth.

The sensation was electric—far beyond anything Julian had expected. And he could tell that Zach felt it as well. Before, the kiss had been pleasurable, but Julian had sensed the white hot anger behind it. That anger was gone now. Now there was nothing but pure, unadulterated passion, and Julian felt himself swept away by the sensation.

On top of him, Zach was undulating seductively. Julian longed to wrap his arms around the other boy's narrow frame and pull him closer. As if on cue, Zach's grip on Julian's wrists loosened, and Julian was not so far gone as to pass up the opportunity to act. With a sudden lunge, he shoved Zach's shoulders, breaking the embrace, and reversing their positions.

Now Julian was staring down into Zach's face. What he saw made his blood quicken, and not with anger. Zach stared up at him, his surprise and disappointment not quite concealed behind a veneer of defiance, but given the circumstances, Julian found even the somewhat weak act quite impressive. Zach's tawny hair was tousled, and his swollen lips were slightly parted in surprise. His eyes were a dangerous, stormy gray as he stared up at Julian from under a set of thick, dark lashes.

"I should—" Julian began.

"Kill me?" Zach finished, his voice lilting upward, questioning.

"Yes," said Julian, half-hypnotized by the other's bottomless eyes.

"Will you?" asked Zach. He did not sound frightened, merely curious.

A brief pause, and then:

"No."

Julian lowered his mouth onto Zach's before anything else could be asked. The kiss was sweeter than the previous embrace, and locked together, the boys rolled till they were laying clasped together on their sides.

So absorbed was he in that sea of pleasure, that it took Julian a moment register that he was no longer embracing anyone.

His eyes flew open.

"What the fuck?" he half-screamed, as he took in the situation.

Where, not even a second before, Zach had lain, his arms clasped around Julian's waist, there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Julian jumped to his feet, looking frantically back and forth, searching for anything that could explain the bizarre goings on. What he saw were walls, ceiling, floor, a hallway stretching far away into impenetrable darkness, and nothing more.

It was as if Zach had never been there at all.

"Was it a hallucination?" Julian pondered aloud. Impossible as it was to believe, he thought maybe that was all it had been. Maybe he had dosed off on the floor and had had one hell of an unbelievably (homo-) erotic dream.

_That must be it._ That's all it could be. There is nobody here.

Julian felt a sublime rush of relief rush over him, he really _hadn't _been going at it with Zach. He really _hadn't _been bested by an underweight mortal fag.

_Thank the Gods_. It was when Julian raised his hands above his head in mock supplication that he saw the fading crimson crescents embedded in the skin on the silky underside of his wrists.

He stared, slack jawed at the horrible proof of his transgressions.

No. It hadn't been a dream. That much was clear. But then… what _had_ happened?

yes... what did happen?


	7. Plot Bunnies

Wow. A furtherence of plot. And its long! Two new characters neither of which will reappear in this story. DODODO!The plot begins in earnest. REVIEW, REVIEW, **REVIEW! **Or die a hideous painful and gawddawful death of unbelievable death.

**Dithclammier:** None of these wunderfull characterz belong to me. In point of fact, their existance can only be attributed to the one, the only L.J. Smith. Lets give her a hand ladies. and gentlemen. pffft.

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Chapter 7

"Boy?"

Zach was in pain. Incredible, unimaginable pain. His head felt as if it were a cantaloupe being rudely abused by the business end of a sledgehammer.

"Boy? You okay?"

A fuzzy outline. Rough hands. The smell of whisky.

"Errrghummmph… what happened?" moaned Zach, his vision slowly clearing. There was a man in a blue jumpsuit shaking his shoulder mercilessly.

The shaking stopped.

"You done fell down the stairs, boy. I just found you. Had me goin' there fer a minute. Fer a minute I thought you was dead."

"Where am I?" Zach had finally recognized his companion. It was Ellis, the grounds-keeper. Zach groaned inwardly. It was just his luck that his salvation would be an ancient, decrepit, perpetually intoxicated redneck.

"Well, you at the bottom of the basement stairs. I was a comin' down here to have me a little—uh—get somethin'," Zach heard the high-pitched scraping of glass sliding on concrete as Ellis pushed something out of Zach's line of vision with his foot, "and its just lucky for you that I spot you layin' here."

"Yes, well, thank you for stopping to help," Zach said sincerely enough. He tried a smile but gave up as the pounding in his head increased. With the pain came the memories of his dream (_dream?_). The images, the sounds, _the tastes_—everything flooded into his head with a rapidity that left him feeling as though he might black out again…

"I think I should maybe head to the infirmary…"

"Yeah, that's prolly a good plan."

With a gigantic effort Zach hauled himself to his feet. He endured an unending moment of extreme vertigo before he felt he could safely take a step. Ellis watched him warily, not attempting to lend him any assistance.

_I must be interrupting his date with his bottle_, thought Zach with a wan smile.

"Really, thanks for your help," Zach said, shaking Ellis's hand. Zach could see that the old man was eager to see him off.

"Yeah, be careful now."

That was one suggestion that Zach thought was probably worth taking. He made his was gingerly up the steep stairs. Glancing back, he was almost sick. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had not broken his neck. With a shudder, he resumed his ascent.

By the time Zach had collected his notes from the deserted lecture hall it was full dark outside. The infirmary was probably closed by now anyway. Not that he had really planned on stopping by anyway.

_No_, he thought, _this is one problem best dealt with in private. _He headed towards the parking lot before he remembered.

"Shit!" He swore bitterly. He had walked the mile and a half to campus this morning, not trusting himself to drive. Now, though, the wind was bitingly cold, and Zach didn't know if his legs would support him.

Wrapping his arms around himself (he had forgotten a coat, of course) Zach bent his head forward and headed towards home.

He was already five blocks into his walk, when the headlights of an oncoming car caught him in the eyes. He barely registered it. But then the car began to slow. Then stop. Then reverse up the empty street until it was even with Zach's hunched figure.

"Oh, Holy _Shit_," Zach muttered, speeding up his walk. He didn't need this shit. He had enough on his plate right now. If some fucking pervert even looked at him funny he would gut the sonnuva—

"Hey, Zach! Zach! Need a lift?"

Zach looked towards the car and the speaker.

"Carlo?"

"Yeah, man. You need a lift? You look fucking dead. Like a zombie, man."

"A lift would be nice, yeah."

Carlo was one of Zach's friends, not a great friend (Zach had no _great _friends—he was first and foremost a loner), but a friend none-the-less. A friend with a ride.

Zach opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. The car was warm—it smelled faintly of leather and cologne. He found the scents comforting in normality, in their humanity.

"What were you doing walking in the cold, man? Its like fucking freezing out there. You're gonna get pneumonia or something."

Carlo, despite his Italian heritage, talked pure American. He sounded like the very essence of stereotypical stoner. Despite his desperately poor grasp of the English language, he was an unbelievable artistic talent. His paintings were a delirious Bosch-Giger hybrid, with a twist of pure original genius.

"Your concern is touching," laughed Zach.

"Seriously, man," Carlo's face was suddenly severe, "take care of yourself, you really look like hell."

"Thanks," said Zach sarcastically.

"I didn't mean it that way…" Carlo was blushing now.

"It's okay." Zach reached over and patted Carlo's shoulder companionably. "No offense taken."

Carlo shot him a strange look. And Zach, searching for anything to fill the awkward void asked the first thing that came to his mind.

"So, uh, do you want to grab some coffee or something? There's a place near my apartment. I'll pay."

"Sure," said Carlo, grasping the new topic with obvious relief.

The coffee shop was dimly lit, and smoky. It was usually packed with pseudo-intellectuals and

art-teests, but tonight there were only a few people, their faces obscured in shadows. Every once in a while someone would raise a cup to their lips or take a glowing drag of their cigarette, but mostly it was still—creepy. Zach was beginning to think that coming here was a bad idea, but Carlo had already made his way to the counter and was about to give his order.

Zach was beyond ready when Carlo suggested that they leave some twenty minutes later. His stomach was in coils and his mind was somewhere else entirely. _With someone else entirely_.

With a start Zach realized that Carlo was talking to him.

"Huh?" Zach grunted.

"I asked where you live, man. I can't just drive around all night, you know. Gas is money."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," said Zach abashed. He knew he was being rude, but memories of Julian's kiss kept infiltrating his thoughts. "It's just up here—on the left. The one with the lions on the stoop."

Carlo pulled his car up to the curb in front of Zach's apartment building. He had that strange look on his face again. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Zach reached for the door handle.

"Say… thanks again for the ride. And the coffee. I'll see you aro—"

Zach's words were cut off when Carlo reached suddenly across the seat and grabbed him by the shoulders.

Before Zach could protest, he felt Carlo's lips on his own. The kiss was brief but powerful. It was Zach that broke it.

"I'm sorry," said Zach, "I'm sorry, Carlo, but I just can't do this now."

Carlo stared at him for a moment, started to reach toward him again, but then seemed to think better of it.

"When do you think would be a better time?" he asked with a wry smile.

"Never. I mean—I don't know… this is a really bad time." Zach realized how lame and uncompassionate that sounded. He knew first hand how hellish unrequited love could be, but he could just not muster enough energy to explain himself or apologize adequately. Instead he reached for the door handle again. This time Carlo did not stop him.

Zach exited the car and made his way up to the crumbling stoop of his apartment building. He paused on the steps, but did not look around. A second later he heard Carlo's engine roar, the screaming of the tires as he peeled out onto the street, and the fading rumble of the car as it sped away.

"Sorry, man." Zach whispered before going inside.

For the first night in as long as he could remember, Zach did not dream.


	8. The Tower Of Luuurve

More PLOT BUNNIES! Oh how they multiply. You get two of them together and they just start breeding. Then you have a whole book on your hands. Well, we can't have that, but I gotta set up the setting (so to speak)! Ich promize( ---?) that the next chapter will be angstier and more pathetic yet. And then maybe the next chapter there'll be some nookie... But I am making no promises.

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Chapter 8

Julian was in a state. He had not been in such a state since The Game had ended. And never had wanted anything as much as he wanted Zach right that very second.

_Not_ that he _liked_—let alone _loved_—the son of a bitch, but that kiss had set something off inside Julian—something that hadn't gone away in Zach's absence. He craved physical contact like a junky craves heroin. _But of course_, Julian reminded himself, _it's only physical_.

The echoing emptiness of the tower was stifling. Julian tried to amuse himself by exploring some of the vast chambers, but he found moving around to be disconcerting. He was never sure if he might miss Zach if he were to reappear. Great opaque walls stretching to high cathedral ceilings, plush throne rooms, and dank, medieval torture chambers—Julian was amazed at the architectural variation within the tower. As he wandered from room to room it was if he was wandering through time itself. Julian noted the superficial spiral alignment of the rooms. There was the main hallway, the tower's own thoroughfare, which was set at a gentle incline and lined with heavy oak doors. He figured that eventually it would reach the top, wherever that was, for no matter how much he walked, he did not seem to progress very far.

After what he assumed were hours of laying morose on the cold floor, Julian decided that a room expedition was in order. He didn't like to be inert for too long. The tower made him edgy. Opening doors at random Julian soon realized that the tower (or whatever it was) did not have to obey by any physical laws he new of. Behind some of the oak barriers there were rooms of such staggering dimensions, they would have taken an entire tower to themselves, behind other doors there were found broom closets, and behind others endless black corridors. A shadow man could get lost in one of those corridors and never find his way out…

"And then where would we be," Julian laughed sarcastically. He found the idea of getting lost forever somewhat less terrorizing than it might have been had he not already _been_ hopelessly unclear as to where he was.

And he felt such loneliness. Such unbearable loneliness. Every time he opened a door, he was hopeful that he would find someone behind it, anyone, any_thing_, as long as it was tangible. Unfortunately, the tower seemed to be entirely deserted. He wondered vaguely if perhaps the tower itself was nothing more that a particularly vivid dream he was having as he floated through the chill of the afterlife. It seemed real enough, but…there was really no telling. He knew Zach had not been a dream, for he would never, even in his most subconscious mind have summoned Zach as his lover. With thoughts of lovers still running circles in his mind, Julian opened a door and stepped through.

He was in a bedchamber. A magnificent, plush, regal, and thoroughly seductive bed chamber. Laughing to himself, Julian flopped himself onto the bed, taking in the rather phallic shape of the bedposts. He stared avidly at the massive mural that took up all four of the walls and most of the ceiling (in the middle of the ceiling hung an exquisite chandelier, hung with sparkling gems). The little people in the painting seemed to be having quite a time. The artist had depicted a scene of bacchanalian exuberance. It was something that would have been quite at home in the mind of the Marquis de Sade, with its gratuitous sexuality and gut-churning violence.

"I think I like it here," smiled Julian. With a deep sigh, he rolled over onto his side and let his mind begin to drift.

Zach's startling reappearance had resurrected all those ancient memories from his life before. He remembered with a shock of shame and embarrassment his violent and ineffectual courtship of Jenny. Really, he would not have believed himself so uncouth. Focusing on Jenny's face, Julian tried to remember what it was that had so attracted him to her, but the harder he tried the more unattainable those feelings became. Everytime he tried to imagine Jenny in his arms, he found himself gazing into the steel gray gaze of her cousin.

Recalling the scent of Zach's skin, Julian let out another wistful sigh and drifted off to sleep.


	9. Zach is sad Very sad

I humbly submit this latest installment for your viewing pleasure. I have not bothered to proof read this particular addition, and I fear for the worst. Feedback, both positive and negative is greatly encouraged!

Apologies to L.J. Smith to which the bulk of this concept rightfully belongs.

* * *

When he awoke, lying nearly naked on the cold linoleum floor of his kitchen, Zach wondered whether he should even bother getting up. To continue to lie there, unmoving and unconcerned seemed the best course of action. And, really, what did it matter? These days he was hardly more productive when he was on his feet wandering to and fro with no particular destination in mind. It had been at least two weeks since Zach had bothered even attending classes. Hell, it had been at least a month since he had last been fully sober.

The problem, he had decided, was those fucking dreams. _Yeah, and what else is new? _The sardonic thought drifted unbidden across his painfully unintoxicated mind. A month ago he could hardly nod off without being dragged into one of them, but now that he wanted—needed—to get back to that world, his sleep was deep, dark, and dreamless.

"Oh, fuck this." Zach muttered, heaving himself unsteadily to his feet. His ass and back were freezing and aching from spending the night on the hard floor. He rubbed his buns briskly attempting to imbue them with some warmth, but was unsuccessful. _A bath then_, he thought. _A very hot bath._ He made his way shivering to the bathroom, kicking viciously at the balled up shirts and socks in his path. The piles of laundry and assorted other filth stood testament to the utter apathy that now filled his life.

A few days previous, in a fit of frenzied energy, he had decided to clean his small apartment. Suddenly infuriated with the squalor, he had launched himself upon the mess with all the intensity of a hyperactive seven-year-old boy the day after Halloween. Industrial sized trash bag in hand, he had swept through the filth of the apartment cramming indiscriminate fistfuls of trash into that great plastic maw. His upsurge in activity was short lived however. While ripping through a cabinet crammed full with empty cereal boxes and mouse droppings, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels had managed to find its way into his hand. Minutes later, sunk down against the baseboards, alcohol burning in the back of his throat, Zach surveyed his handy work. It was hardly noticeable. Piles of books and papers, photographs in cascades across the floor, half-empty food boxes—the more shit he cleared away the more there seemed to be.

_What a perfect summary of my life_, he thought as he began to fill the bath tub, cranking the handle as far into the red as it would go. While he waited, listening to the burble and splash of the water, he perused his reflection in the crusted and cracked mirror above the sink. The Zach from behind the mirror stared back at him with vague, dark ringed eyes set in a wasted face. How thin he had become in these miserable weeks—his ribcage plainly visible from beneath the sallow shrink wrap of his skin, his pelvic bones jutting, cliff-like, from his torso. What had happened to him? Silly and obsolete question, he knew. The sense of deprivation and longing he had been experiencing since his brief encounter with Julian was ripping him apart. To finally gain what he had so long desired and then have it torn out of his arms…well, that was just too much, wasn't it? With a slight gasp of pain at the heat, Zach slipped into the bath and turned off the tap. It had been six month. Six months of increasingly frantic attempts to reach that distant palace of dreams. He felt constantly on the verge of breaking through that fine barrier of consciousness, but somehow, no matter how much he smoked or drank, he always came up short, landing back into his own sordid reality. Eyes closed, he let himself slide downward until his head rested on the bottom of the tub. A vast silence closed in around him, and he could feel nothing of his body save for his knee caps breaking the surface of the water. He felt weightless and intangible as he did in dreams.

When Zach finally opened his eyes, he was no longer in his bathtub. He was not in his bathroom, nor was he in his filthy apartment. In place of his yellowed, molding ceiling tile he saw instead a great, vast stretch of glistening panes of glass beyond which he could see only darkness.

"Holy shit," was all Zach could manage.

"I should say so."

Zach started at the sound of the voice. He knew who the speaker was beyond a doubt, but somehow the unearthly melody of Julian's voice always took him by surprise. He sat up quickly, realizing in one moment that he was sopping wet, and in the next that he was ass naked. Flushing slightly, Zach looked about the room. Julian sat on the floor not four feet away, legs crossed, staring at him with a bemused smile on his face. His eyes met Zach's briefly, before sliding downward. "You know," Julian began, "I was under the impression that common human courtesy dictated the necessity for clothing in most social settings."

"Umm. Yeah. In general, I would say that's the rule," stammered Zach.

Julian laughed to himself, as he rose to his feet, straightening. It was an utterly inhuman sound, pure and elemental, and at the sound of it, Zach felt himself grow hard. Blushing furiously, he hardly noticed when Julian extended a pale, long fingered hand down to him. Zach stared at the hand, and then up into Julian's face. He could read nothing in those alien eyes. After a moment's hesitancy Zach took the proffered hand, and was pulled to his feet.

They stood then eye to eye, left hands lightly clasped. And then, before Zach could comprehend what was happening to him, Julian had pulled him forward till their bodies were crushed tightly together, his right arm slipping around Zach's narrow waist. A whisper of soft lips against his, the faintly felt tip of a teasing tongue, and Zach was lost. Julian dragged his finger nails first softly, then more insistently across the plane of Zach's back. Zach moaned and panting, broke free of the embrace.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Zach was breathless—intoxicated. Julian looked at him for a moment, the perfect blue of his gaze clouded with desire and a predatory lust. Zach's heart skipped a beat as he felt a hand twining in his hair, and suddenly Julian's mouth was pressed to his ear. Julian's words came, all sibilants and hot breath, against the side of Zach's face.

"Because I want to, you stupid fuck. Now kiss me."

Not needing to be told twice, Zach complied. Bodies clasped, the two men stumbled blindly before collapsing back onto the icy marble floor.


End file.
